They say they want to see us all and spend time with their grandchildren but I know the real reason.

My dad has enrolled on an evening course, Cooking with Carlos every Wednesday.

So now, every Friday, they arrive at our house and whilst mum aims, head down, straight for the sofa, dad marches in carrying his wicker basket.

Organised very carefully in his basket are his saucepans (he won’t use ours, Lord knows why), ingredients, tupperware (just in case there is any left over for them to warm up for Saturday) and if we’re lucky, a bottle of wine.

Over the basket, dad lays a newly-washed and ironed tea towel. Everything is just so.

Now allow me a moment to describe my dad. He looks a bit like Brian Blessed, 6’4 and a big bear of a man with a thick beard and deep Welsh accent.

He doesn’t say an awful lot (probably a result of being married to my mum for over 30 years – he can’t get a word in!) but everyone loves him, he has a twinkle in his eye.

Anyway, back to dinner. Every week we go through the same process. Dad proudly places each meal before us and we all make the compulsory, appreciative “Oohs” and “Ahhs” and “this looks lovely”.

Then there is silence as we take our first mouthful. Not daring to look at each other for fear of laughing, we can feel dad’s eyes bearing into us, searching our faces for feedback and urging us to ask him exactly how he managed to produce such a culinary masterpiece.

I finally relent and, as always, am the first to say “this is lovely dad, how on earth did you make it?” to the groans of mum and my husband who both know what’s to come – 15 minutes of a very detailed and very precise description of the entire process. He begins: “Two words, Anna my love. Olive. Oil. Carlos introduced me to it on Wednesday. You get it from Italy!

“Apparently you can even get it from Tesco now! It’s not the same as vegetable oil, or sunflower oil. No. This is made from olives. In Italy! You can even put it on salad or dip your bread in it! Have you ever heard of the like?”

Every week dad discovers a new ingredient with the same enthusiasm and excitement of a young child. For the next 10 or 20 minutes he gesticulates wildly, a la Ainsley Harriot, showing us the exact technique he uses in order to actually pour the olive oil into the pan.

God help us when he comes across garlic-infused olive oil. That’ll really blow him away. The rest of the meal sees me, mum and my husband extolling the virtues of olive oil in amazement as my dad sits back with a huge grin on his face.

As soon as we finish admiring the talented chef, dad jumps up and gets straight to work washing his saucepans and packing up his basket, ready to head off home.

As they leave, I can’t help but call out to dad: “What are you doing next week dad?”